Sweating Bullets

First thing this morning, after coffee and a scone, was to docent a group of 5th graders through the glass show. They were pretty good, I only had to grab a couple of them. I explained pyrex glass to them, borosilicate. Then into janitor mode, everyone cleaning, Pegi vacuumed the Carter gallery. Big opening gala, clean the bathrooms. Then, at the end of the day, unannounced, a troop of 13, 3rd grade Brownies. God spare a pack of Brownies. They were a little hyper and really wanted to touch the pieces. They were a tough tour. Locking up the museum, I was whipped. Met Anthony at the pub for a relatively quick beer. He had to go pull some handles, for some vessels, for some orders that he needed to fill. Pegi told me to stay at the museum one more night, because the mud was bad at her house, and was therefore horrific at my house. Brave the muck, I say, tomorrow. Still undecided about the dipping sauce for the croquettes. Leaning toward a mild horseradish/mayo. Fewer drips, I think, from my position as janitor. Someone always has to clean up. I've banned grapes and glitter, I'll get around to the books later. I dampened my fingers, and played part of a Bach partita on one of the glass pieces. Just kidding, but I did think about it. Thinking and rethinking is the name of the day, how do you enter the end game? My only strength in chess is the middle-game. My openings are standard, and against anyone that's decent in the game, I lose, at the end. I've learned to live with it. A failure to finish. Have to admit the truth in that. I start way too many things. Sidetracked. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Diversion is the story of my life. You might as well call it drainage, a run-off, mascaraing, you do what you have to. I do nothing, if it's at all possible, because I recognize my own intrusion. I'm that guy, the flyer you just got, the wanted criminal. I could play that, poison the field, but I see where you're going, and I don't want part of that.

Tom

Sweating Bullets, was that so hard? Now there are hoops I must jump through. It always was only the other side of what I'm interested in. What you thought you were saying. Nothing primes you to lie better than a really large catfish, how large was it? Really. If you have to ask. I feel like an astronaut, who's fixing to fly. You and them. I let things go for a while, then I merely launch. A Roman Candle of sorts. I have to go. You and me.